


Arête

by dreamsandlove



Series: Malex AUs [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mercenaries, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Assassination Attempt(s), BAMF Alex Manes, Canon-Typical Violence, Confessions, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alex Manes, POV Michael Guerin, Pod Squad Mercinaries, Praise Kink, Siblings working together, Soulmates, Truth, beguiled Michael Guerin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2020-10-05 20:13:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20494661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsandlove/pseuds/dreamsandlove
Summary: Michael Guerin has an impressive set of skills and is considered the best in the business. He's a mercenary's mercenary, that is, until he attempts to take out a suspected threat to national security. For some reason, Alex Manes, confuses and beguiles him. It's quite frustrating, to be honest.ORLove at first sight? Tired, boring.Love at first assassination attempt? Spicy.[courtesy of a post on @roswellprompts (Tumblr)]Tw: death of minor chatacter





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Heather_Night](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/gifts).

> **Thank you, Heather_Night, for all the support and unwavering belief that I could do this. 💗 
> 
> Erm...um...hrm...welp...I'm trying a thing here. It's a new thing for me. A Mercenary AU kind of thing. Because why not, right? We shall see how it all lands.
> 
> Big shoutouts to: pastelwitchling for hard edits. Brutal, but appreciated. caitlesshea who is always down for a bit of betaing and encouragement. salazartipton for fresh eyes and feedback. 💗💗💗
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! ❤️

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is on the job. He’ll take out the mark...or will he!

Michael has the target in his sights, scope lined up, ready to take out the threat. He needs a cleaner shot since the mark is in profile, so just another couple of seconds and Michael will be done with this job. Easy peasy. The man turns around, face in perfect position and Michael’s body flushes hot, his cock shoots hard, distracting him. _ What the? _ Trying to ignore his body’s weird reaction, Michael attempts to focus, finger on the trigger...he hesitates...but he _ never _ hesitates. He closes his eyes for a few seconds to slow his breath and get himself back into the right headspace. When he opens them, the man is gone, completely out of Michael’s line of sight. _ Fuck! _ What is wrong with him? This doesn’t happen to him. He _ always _gets the target on the first shot. 

Though the mark’s docee was incomplete, entire years of the man’s life unaccounted for, what information his team did have seemed to confirm the client’s claims. This man is a threat to national security and a terrorist, stealing top secret documents and inciting bombings all over the country and US installations abroad. 

Michael’s company never goes after the ‘good guys’. They thoroughly vet all suspects, regardless of a client’s intel, to ensure the punishments do in fact fit the crimes. 

So this visceral reaction and Michael’s hesitation makes zero sense to him. He is a consummate professional when it comes to his assignments. Michael is self assured and confident, extremely efficient. _ It’s fine_. _ No big deal. The man probably stepped in another room. _Michael will wait and take his shot.

Nothing to be concerned about.

Michael hears a gun cock behind him. _ Shit! _ He was clearly distracted longer than he thought.

It seems Alex Manes is more cunning than anticipated. 

“Hands up, and step away from the gun.” 

They are on a rooftop, across from Manes’s apartment. Michael’s sniper rifle, affectionately named Shelby, nestled on a tripod resting on the building's edge. 

Hands up Michael turns and his breath catches. Heart hammering, blood rushing to his head and roaring in his ears. Up close, this man is the most exquisite creature he’s ever seen. The grainy pictures of him in the recon file don't do him justice. Those intense eyes, that longish brown hair, the harsh line of his jaw. _ Why am I thinking about this now?! _ Everything about Alex Manes screams confidence, dominance, control. For a split second Michael has a crazy thought that he’d like to see Manes lose that control, to be rumpled and wild, on edge and wanting. 

_ Shit! Focus! _

What in the world is wrong with him? A target has snuck up behind him, which _ never _ happens, _ and _he’s so distracted by the man’s presence he’s gonna get himself killed! He gives himself an internal shake and remembers his training, his mission, his precise set of skills. 

“I don’t know what your day job is, but you’re failing at this. I tracked the reflection from your scope almost immediately.” The arrogance and snark that rolls off Manes causes Michael’s body to flush even hotter. In a bid to ignore his bizarre reactions, he gives his best ‘cowboy swagger' smirk.

Michael wants to reply, but his words are trapped in his throat. The sensations charging through his body aren’t fear or concern, it’s something else altogether. He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him and it’s freaking him out, to be honest. Michael ends up snorting as a response, and immediately feels like a total dumbass. 

“A wordsmith, I see? How eloquent.” 

Michael is the king of quips, sarcasm like a second language to him, but he’s nearly dumbstruck by the man in front of him. And that sardonic tone from Manes? It’s making Michael feel all sorts of things that are inappropriate to crave while engaging with an opponent, and trying not to get himself killed in the process. 

Michael reaches deep for an inkling of self preservation.

“Trust me Manes, what I do with my mouth is a thing of beauty.” _ Holy Fuck!!! _That was an exceedingly sexual comment given the context of the situation. Michael would love to believe he did it on purpose, to distract the man in front of him, but the words just slipped out and the lack of reaction on Manes’s face makes Michael feel disappointed and annoyed for some reason.

_ Jesus Christ! Get it together, Guerin! _

Michael surprises himself by using his telekinesis to ‘blow’ the gun to the side and step forward to disarm his mark. Only slightly startled, Manes counters each and every move. They go head-to-head in hand-to-hand combat. Regardless of the prosthetic (noted in the intel the team had gathered), Manes moves fast as hell, faster than Michael expected, and has a fist like Thor’s hammer. Both Michael’s lip and eyebrow are split open and bleeding. Clearly, the information they had was sorely lacking, as there was zero mention of Manes’s tactical skill and almost preternatural grace. Michael tastes the coppery flavor as it seeps into his mouth and feels his eye burn as it starts to blur from the blood dripping down. 

Manes manages to knock Michael on his back, left knee pressed against his throat. 

He’s out of breath and his body hurts from the fight but Michael is impressed, and a little bit in awe, that Manes bested him so quickly. The man above him has a face like granite, cheeks slightly tinged from exertion, sweat wetting his hairline. He somehow looks more captivating as he exerts his dominance and control over Michael. _ What?! _This is no time to be thinking with his dick. This is life or death, not some weird ass ‘meet cute’! Blinking a couple of times Michael tries to remember this is a job and not foreplay. He’s only got one move to get himself out of this situation. Michael again relies on his TK, to get himself out of Manes’s hold. 

They both roll to their feet, falling into battle stances. Staring one another down, predator to predator—or maybe prey to prey?—as Michael readies himself for an offensive attack.

Holding eye contact for a few beats, Michael realizes he should’ve already killed Alex Manes a dozen times over by now. Why hadn’t he followed through, yet? What the hell was happening here? He’s got to get away from this man and regroup, because obviously there’s something very wrong with him right now. Michael has no resolve to complete his mission, and if he fucks this up, he might end up seriously injured or dead. His own thought processes seeming foreign to him and out of character, both of which are a major problem for Michael. He needs to be calculated and in control, not distracted and off kilter. 

Slowly, Michael backs himself toward the edge of the building, eyes tracking each of the other man’s breathes and any signs of him telegraphing a countermeasure. He’s taken aback that a known terrorist, a threat to national security, is letting him back away at all. 

In a quick and practiced move Michael grabs Shelby, slinging the gun over his shoulder, and jumps off the roof. He lands hard on the fire escape below and runs about two stories down. He’s sure Manes has likely grabbed his own gun and is watching him descend. Michael flings himself through an open window and into an apartment he knows is vacant before bolting through the door and jetting down the stairs. 

He’s fairly sure Manes can’t catch him. 

Michael heads toward his car parked in the alley on the far side of the building. The 1970, navy blue, Dodge Challenger, continues to be a source of contention between himself and Max. Max insisting that Michael needs a less recognizable vehicle, and Michael reminding Max that he can ‘fuck off’. Michael built this beauty from the ground up, every part of her lovingly restored. No way he’s not gonna drive her hard and fast. 

Sliding across the hood of the car, snatching the ticket off the windshield, Michael gets in and drives away. 

He sees the silhouette of Manes in his rearview. 

_ The man moves fast as fuck! _

Michael has seriously underestimated Alex Manes. Never before has he been sidelined by a target’s physical appearance or staggered by someone else’s energy. No, it was more than that. Magnetism, maybe? Whatever it was, it wasn’t welcome. Michael’s odd reaction to the other man—his overall presence, his skill, that sassy ass mouth—is something that calls to him on a bone deep level. Creating within Michael the contradictory urge to flee while simultaneously seeking more. 

Michael is a tad worried he’s fucked in more ways than one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael Guerin has some explaining to do. And also, who and what is Arête???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to el-gilliath for edits. ❤️

“What the fuck, Michael?” 

“It’s fine Max. I’ll take care of it this week, like I always do.” 

Liz is squinting at Michael suspiciously as Kyle stitches up the cut over his eyebrow. 

They’re in the main room of the headquarters building, a seemingly abandoned warehouse nestled in the heart of the city. Their offices, training rooms and weapons armory all located underground.

Arête, the company Michael founded with his siblings, is dedicated to neutralizing threats to national security (often dealing with terrorists and independent contractors who will do just about anything for the right price). The name of their organization is derived from the Ancient Greek concept of excellence in the art of living, the highest ideals of life, and fulfilling one’s potential. Michael knew he’d stuck gold when he suggested the name to Max and Isobel years ago (after reading _ Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_. It just fit).

Initially, it was just the three of them, but they quickly realized they needed additional skill sets. 

Brining on Liz Ortecho was a no brainer. Their biomedical/technology guru always keeps them ahead of the curve by creating the coolest gadgets and specialized bioware. Michael adores his sister-in-law, with her kind nature and iron will. What’s not to like? He’s also very happy that she nerds out with him about all things sciencey and gets his quirky sense of humor. Plus, Liz is the only one who can actually get Max to chill out. He knows his brother carries a sense of burden and responsibility for their success. Both he and Isobel continue to remind Max he doesn’t have to bear it alone, that they’re equal partners in all of this, but he is who he is. Stubborn to the core, through and through. They love him for it, even as they mercilessly harass him. 

Then there’s Kyle Valenti. Liz knew him in high school and suggested they bring him on awhile back. So far it’s working out okay. He’s the resident physician, constantly patching up the siblings and keeping track of their overall health and wellness. The doc often works with Liz on the biological side of things, and, for a man who’s snarky as fuck, Valenti’s voice can be surprisingly soothing when leading the team through yoga exercises and guided mediations. Not that Michael would ever admit that to the man. 

Currently, Michael is stunned and a bit embarrassed he’s sitting here at all, having to get stitched up, after failing spectacularly at what should’ve been a simple assignment. How is he supposed to admit to his siblings, and the rest of the team, that he had a hard-on, lost track of time and got his ass handed to him by the target? 

“Soooo….you got those,” Liz motioning toward Michael’s injuries, “running into a doorframe, huh?” Her tone suggesting she doesn’t at all believe the story about why his face is beat to hell. Michael actually might have a cracked rib too, but no way on earth he’s letting the others know that. 

Kyle snorts in agreement of Liz’s assessment. Clearly neither one of them is buying Michael's bullshit lie. _ Stupid Valenti. Smug prick. _If Michael didn’t want to punch the guy’s face every time he saw him he’d have fucked him years ago. The man is smoking hot, smart, and a great sparring partner. But there’s just something about Valenti that brings out all of the worst instincts in Michael. Unlike the man who just pummeled his face and threw him so far off track he’s now having to rethink his usual tactics. 

Also, Kyle is totally head over heels for Jenna Cameron, their tactical training expert and overall badass. Jenna had been one of the few women chosen to become an Army Ranger, and after two tours, earning several medals and awards, Arête was lucky enough to hire her right out of the gate. Cam’s knowledge of military procedures and her contacts within the various branches has been invaluable to their mission and success. Michael isn’t sure if she even realizes how ga-ga Kyle is her or if she’s just playing hard to get. Either way, it’s amusing to watch Valenti try. 

Sprawled on an office chair, popping her chewing gum and flipping a blade through the air, expertly catching it by the handle, Isobel rolls her eyes and complains, “Who cares? Enough. I’m bored. What else ya got for us, Maxie?” 

“Don’t call me that, Iz!” Max is leaned up against one of the computer consoles, arms crossed over his chest, either assessing or openly judging the scene in front of him. Michael can’t tell the difference anymore. 

Isobel snorts in response, “Sure thing, princess.” 

Ignoring her, Max says, “We need to figure out this Alex Manes situation before we start anything new.”

“I said I’ll handle it!” Michael bristles at Max’s implication that there’s a problem or that anything else needs to happen for the job to be completed. Michael has always come through in the past, though not necessarily in the way Max would have liked, but still, he gets it done.

Iz gets up, blonde hair flipping behind her, words tossed carelessly over her shoulder, as she strolls out. “I’ll be back later. My time is precious and I’ve got more interesting things to do. Text me when you’ve actually got something for me. Later losers.” 

Michael has no idea where she’s going or what’s so important, but he suspects it has something to do with Officer Maria Deluca, and her pattern of going to the Wild Pony, an after hours cop bar a few blocks away. He’ll let his sister keep her secrets, for now.

He’s got other things to focus on, at the moment. 

“Michael, this is serious. The client needs Alex Manes to be disposed of by the end of the week. The man is a threat to national security and a known terrorist.”

“I know! I said I've got it, Maxwell.” 

“Don’t call me that!” 

Fully stitched up, Michael slaps away Valenti who responds with an eye roll and a muttered “asshole” as he quickly packs up his medical equipment. Kyle’s likely in a hurry to head to one of their training rooms to find Cam, and awkwardly flirt with her as she kicks his ass on one of the insane obstacle courses she’s devised. 

“I’m out of here too. Consider Manes dealt with. Try not to blow a gasket in the meantime, Maxine.”

Michael smirks and leaves, chuckling to the sounds of Liz cooing to Max and no doubt tending to his bruised ego. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael Guerin and Alex Manes meet again. What could go wrong?

The following night, Michael heads to Manes’s condo. The man is at the gym, so Michael takes it upon himself to break in using his telekinesis. Best lock pick around. He slips in and wanders around the apartment. 

He sees pictures of landscapes and far off places. _Snapshots of is his travels or a ruse to fill the empty space? _Regardless, the photography is stunning. Michael peruses Alex’s bookshelf and is impressed by the wide array of topics, his taste in music seeming just as broad, as he flips through old records and cd’s. 

Hearing the lock turn in the door, Michael eases into the shadows. Though close combat and blades aren’t his first choice, he’s not bad at it either. Four inch tactical knife clenched in his fist, he waits for Manes to come in, close the door and drop his gym bag. From his vantage point, the man shouldn’t be able to see Michael. His black T-shirt, camo pants and combat boots allowing him to perfectly blend into the darkness. Michael watches Manes head to the bathroom and hears the shower turn on. 

_It’s now or never._ Michael slips from his spot and approaches the partially closed door. He’s borderline excited to see Alex naked, water sluicing down his body when he finds a .50 Desert Eagle in his face. _ Fuck! _Alex clearly knew he was there the whole time. Michael must have somehow missed the stashed weapon, though he’d found the .44 Magnum in the kitchen pantry when he’d done a quick sweep for weapons earlier. 

“_Drop it_.” 

Hands up, Michael let’s go of the knife and it clatters to the floor. 

“Hey, I was just thinking about making some swans out of apples or strawberries or something. What, you don’t like fruit salad?” Michael tries to save face with a little humor. 

The sound of Alex Manes’s small laugh sends shivers down his spine. Manes is standing there holding him at gunpoint, shirtless, wearing joggers and running shoes, and all Michael wants to do is lick the man from head to toe. 

_ What is wrong with me?? _

“Shut up. Take two steps back, and get on your knees.” 

“Manes, if you wanted to flirt with me all you had to do was ask.” 

“I said shut up! Now move!” 

Michael complies. This is the second time he’s been caught off guard by this man in less than 24 hours, and he’s beyond confused...and aroused. He feels his cock stir behind his camo pants. 

_Are you kidding me?_

“Who the fuck are you, and why are you trying to kill me?” Manes’s tone is cool, calm and clipped, and Michael’s body responds in kind. 

He feels sweat break out all over his skin and his heartrate kick up. It’s like his system is attuned to this man, his tone, his commanding mein. It’s infuriating and exciting. He finds himself answering, “I’m Guerin.” _ Fuck! _ He never answers questions. It’s like he can’t _ not_.

“Well, _ Guerin_, want to tell me what’s going on here?”

“Well, _ Manes_, not really.”

The smile-smirk on the man’s lips, the way he quirks one eyebrow, causes all sorts of lascivious thoughts to tumble through Michael’s head. 

_ Michael kissing that look right off Alex’s face...Alex’s face relaxed, mouth open as he moans when Michael sucks his cock down deep into the back of his throat...Alex’s strong hand tangled in his curls as he whispers filthy words of lust and praise while bringing Michael off again and again... _

_ What the _ actual _ fuck is wrong with me?! _

While Michael has always had a high sex drive, it has _ never _ interfered with a job or been a temptation with a target. But _ Alex Manes_...he’s captivating from head to toe, in more ways than one. 

“Alright then. We’ll do it the hard way.” Manes produces a pair of zip ties and drops them to the tile floor, gesturing for Michael to bound his hands in front of him. 

Michael has no clue why he complies or decides to play along—no restraints can hold him—but he finds himself binding his own wrists, rather tightly. 

Alex nods and leads him to a chair in the kitchen, there Alex uses a 5-50 cord to secure Michael’s chest and legs to the piece of furniture. Again, at any time Michael can easily slip the restraints, but for some crazy reason, he just won't..._or cant?_

Michael’s entire being is clamoring for him to comply and follow this man’s commands. He tells himself it’s all a ruse, a way to catch Manes off guard, but deep down he _ knows _ there's something else going on. This isn’t simply playing the long con, something _is _ happening here. 

Michael finds himself working to control his breathing as the rope slides across his body, bindings catching along the fine hairs of his arms, stinging just a little. Manes appears to be an expert at this, meticulously looping the rope, creating simple yet effective knots along the way. His hands are sure and steady as he bounds Michael, as though he’s done this a thousand times before. Michael wonders if he learned this craft for work or for play. _ Likely a little of both. _ That thought causes Michael’s cock to twitch. It’s like he can’t control himself around Manes. The automatic responses superseding reason. He hates it, _ hates it._.but is also somehow fascinated by it...by this man and his power over him. 

“Am I where you want me?” Michael teases, sounding flirty, which is better than sounding breathless from the riot of emotions he’s currently experiencing.

If Michael wasn’t acutely paying attention to him, he might have completely missed Alex’s minuscule reaction, the man’s pupils dilating, just a tiny bit. 

_ Not the only one affected here? Good to know. _

“What do you want with me?” And isn’t that a loaded question? Michael knows all of his reactions to this stranger are too much, too fast, too strong, but he’s drawn to the man in a way he can’t explain. Michael can’t decide if he’s intrigued by Alex Manes or terrified of him—or both!—so he decides to play nice, for the moment.

“You’re my mark, simple as that. You’ve conspired against the government and you’re a threat to national security. I’m here to dispose of you.”

“Hrm...seems you’re terrible at your job then.” 

For some reason the idea of seeming incompetent or lesser-than to Manes really irritates Michael. He nudges the man using his Tk and feels smug at the slight look of surprise that crosses Manes’s face.

“So, you _ are _ one of _ those_? An Antarian?”

_Holyshitholyshitholyshit!!!! _

Now Michael is sure he’s the one sporting a look of surprise. As far as he knows, he, Max, Iz, and the rest of the team, are the only ones who even know about Antarians. He thought the three of them, stupidly called the Pod Squad by their human colleagues, were the only aliens on the planet. Clearly he was wrong. 

“I figured as much. I thought I detected telekinetic energy when we were on the roof.” Manes’s attitude nonchalant, like he just mentioned a new fast food place opening up in town, as opposed to revealing life altering information!

Michael’s heart is now racing for several reasons. First, how the _ fuck _ does Alex Manes know anything about Antarians?! Second, he’s fucking aroused, his dick hard and aching, and the man hasn’t even touching him, yet! _ Yet?! A forgone conclusion?! _ Third, _ WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! _He must be losing his goddamned mind!!!! 

“You don’t have to answer. You’re lack of response says it all.”

“How?” Michael doesn’t see the use in denying it or playing dumb, he’ll take out Alex Manes the first chance he gets. He will! He’s never not taken out a mark, and ultimately, despite the weird ass energy between them, this job will be no different than any other. It doesn't matter that Michael’s mind and body react to the man like no other person he’s ever met. It doesn’t matter he’s already failed twice to accomplish this seemingly simple task. Manes knows about aliens and Michael isn’t about to let his dick put his siblings in danger from this beautiful stranger. 

Michael has a job to do and he’ll complete it. He has to. 

Letting loose a bored sigh, Manes explains, “My mother was Antarian, so I can usually sense when I’m near one. Your energy is stronger than most.”

_ What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck????!!! _ He has no words. _ Others? Energy? Mother? _

_ Jesus_, that’s not what he thought Manes was going to say. Michael keeps getting thrown off course by this man, like a ship trapped in a storm. Turned around, battered, having to constantly readjust, hoping to stay afloat. 

Manes laughs, but it’s humorless. “So I’m half Antarian. I don’t have any powers, per se, but I can sense those who share my alien blood. I’m also a _ bit _ stronger and faster physically. My senses keener than the run-of-the-mill human.”

Michael’s head is spinning, mind reeling. Also, why is Manes telling him any of this? 

The man scowls, “Why am I telling you any of this?”

_Good to know something's off with him too._

Trying to salvage what’s left of his confidence and professionalism, Michael quips, “Because I’m beautiful, and you can’t resist me?”

Manes’s assessing gaze has Michael puffing up his chest and trying to sit taller, despite his restraints, and muddled thoughts. 

The man across from him nods, though his face is inscrutable. 

“Regardless of any of this, who sent you?”

“I don’t know. I just know you’re my mark and I have until the end of the week to complete my mission.” _ Why can’t I shut up??? Jesus! _Michael’s gonna have to ask Valenti for a full blood panel and work up, or something, because what he’s saying, and the way he’s reacting, feels totally foreign and absolutely natural, all at the same time! 

“Hmmm.” Manes nods his head again, and asks, “I’m guessing you can slip these restraints anytime you want?”

Michael gives a slight nod, then grits his teeth at his almost uncontrollable reaction to the question. What is he doing? He just found out there are more Antarians, but he's just nodding his head like a dumbshit and offering up answers to the enemy! Michael needs to be the one garnering information, gathering more intel, and then take out the threat standing in front of him.

“I figured.”

The two of them stare at each other, both seemingly unsure of the next move. Manes doesn’t lower his gun, but his finger isn’t on the trigger either. Neither one of them appears to be an imminent threat to the other at the moment. 

“Show me.” Manes says the words like he expects his orders to be followed immediately, without any resistance.

“Wh-what?” _ Fucking genius response, Guerin. _

“Show me how you’d get free of my restraints.”

“It’s not a magic trick.” For some reason Michael feels a bit offended. He should absolutely be focused on other things, but his mind is a mess. He doesn’t want this man to see him as a freak or a sideshow. He doesn’t understand his own responses, or why the urge to impress and please Manes feels so important.

“I know.” Manes’s voice is softer—almost respectful?—he explains, “I just want to see your gift in action.” 

_ Gift? _ No one has ever called it a gift before. The word too delicate, almost reverent. 

Once again, like he’s helpless to resist, Michael slowly undoes the rope using his telekinesis. He watches as Manes tracks each and every twist, each bend of the rope, each knot being undone, until the tactical cord falls away.

“Do the zip ties too.”

He slips the plastic ties off his wrists and they fall gently to the floor. All of Michael’s body is free, he’s held by nothing, no physical restraints, but he doesn’t move. Manes’s gaze, his presence, keeps Michael bound out of some unknown, but fully recognized authority. It’s less a matter of he _ can’t _move, rather...he doesn’t want to...because he can sense it’s what Alex Manes wants of him?

_ I should kill him right now. _

“And would you stay like that for me?” Though it’s a question, his tone suggests he already knows Michael’s answer.

“Yes.”

_ End him! _

“For how long?”

“For as long as you’d want.” Michael simultaneously wants to run and scream, but also fully obey and submit. He feels like he’s falling apart. He’s at a complete loss, but somehow trusts Alex Manes will ...keep him on course?

_ Just reach out and strangle him! _

The thought immediately brings a sense of...wrongness to Michael. 

_ None of this makes any goddamned sense!!! _

The man before him lets loose a deep sigh, cocking his head to the side, eyes locked on Michael’s face. 

“You’d do anything I’d ask, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yes.” Heart thundering, skin feeling too tight, Michael’s response is confusing (not at all understood) though it’s the absolute truth.

_ I’m at his mercy… _

Tiny scowl lines form on Manes’s forehead, as though he’s assessing or maybe registering something?

“Leave, Guerin. And don’t come back.”

The fear and near anguish that floods Michael’s system is astonishing. He feels a deep ache of loss that is completely irrational, and it shakes him to his core. Michael should be extracting information from this man and ending Alex Manes’s life, instead he feels rudderless and adrift from those dismissive words. 

He rises and heads toward the door, discarded blade a casualty of being sloppy and getting caught. 

Michael reaches toward the handle and turns back. Manes’s face is harsh, his expression impassive, as he continues to hold the gun on Michael. But his eyes…those eyes burn with a passion, a _ knowing_, and Michael understands that this is the one thing he can never grant Alex Manes. 

He knows he can never stay away.

“I’ll see you soon, Alex.” Michael hears the other man’s quick intake of breath as he walks out the door and tries to figure out what the actual fuck is happening to him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex Manes is missing, and Michael Guerin has to find him!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you insidious-intent, aliencowboyswagger, and caitlesshea for edits and feedback. :D <3 <3 <3 Thank you bestillmyslashyheart for allowing me to use her OC, Patrick Scott!

The next day, Michael shows up to Alex’s apartment to find it empty, void of the man’s personal belongings. It’s like he’s vanished within the few hours they’ve been apart. 

The idea of Alex _ gone_, lost to him, causes a deep ache that he can’t explain. It’s intense, powerful, terrible. 

_ Fuck! _

The rest of the day Michael frantically searches the databases to find any electronic record of where Manes might be. Nothing. 

Michael pours over the intel documents the team gathered at the beginning of this assignment to see if there’s anything he’s missed. 

_ This can’t be the end. It can’t be! _

Michael can’t help but think about the path that brought them to this moment. When he, Isobel, and Max were sixteen, a cruel joke from the universe turned their lives upside down. One minute they were young and happy and carefree, the next, their world was torn apart. Their adoptive father, David Guerin, a local cop, had been shot dead on a regular Tuesday afternoon. Adding insult to injury, the man that shot him had also coerced Isobel into a sexual relationship. The history teacher had taken advantage of her, preying on her flirtatious and sweet nature. Their father had found out and when he’d gone to arrest the man he’d been killed on the spot. The coward ran off, never held accountable for what he’d done to Isobel or Officer Guerin, their dad. 

A year later, their mother remarried to Mr. Evans. Max and Isobel embraced their stepfather with open arms, allowing him to adopt them and taking his last name. Michael was more reserved, and choose to keep Guerin; it felt like a better fit for him. 

Once they all graduated, Max went into law enforcement, Isobel working at a law firm, and Michael discovering he had a talent for bounty hunting. Using their new set of skills, the three of them eventually tracked down the man that had hurt Isobel and murdered their father. Max was the one to kill him, while Isobel and Michael took care of the details. Strangely enough, they all felt okay with what they’d done, a sense of righting wrongs and settling injustices somehow wired in their DNA. Shortly thereafter, Arête was formed. Initially, they worked locally, but once they were able to infiltrate and dismantle a small cartel (that traded internationally in drugs and human trafficking), the trio felt confident being able to take on bigger and more complicated jobs.

So here they are, ten years later with an impeccable reputation of being proficient and reliable, meanwhile, Michael feels like he’s going to lose his mind if he doesn’t find Manes sooner, rather than later. He’d be lying if he said it was due to his job or a sense of professional responsibility. It’s as though he’s losing himself (almost willingly) to a man he hardly knows, a man who appears to be a threat to the national security (and to his siblings), but his logic continues to fail him time and again when it comes to Alex Manes...and that scares Michael to no end. 

_ Finally_, he finds a deed for a small piece of property near one of the national parks. Michael would’ve completely overlooked it, as it was under the name Patrick Scott, but he remembered the name from his recon. Scott had been one of Alex’s Air Force buddies from when he was active duty, so Michael decides it may be worth a shot. The location is close(ish), and he’s run out of any other options. 

For someone who continuously craves control, Michael is feeling anything but. As he drives into the night, drawn by an invisible tether (to a man he hardly knows), he experiences a combination of fear and finality. 

It’s as though Michael is running headlong toward his destruction. Or maybe his salvation?

~~~

Michael arrives at the cabin in the early hours of the morning. Using his telekinesis he flips the lock on the back door, no weapons on him, no real plan, just a need to find the man he seeks. He’s sure Alex is there because his truck is parked out front and there are wisps of smoke coming from the chimney. He knows he should watch and wait, but Michael can’t seem to stop himself, his instincts overriding all other rational thoughts and common sense.

He enters the dark house making nearly no sound as he crosses the threshold into the bedroom.

A tsking sound lilts through the air, making Michael grin. 

“Took you long enough. I’m a little disappointed, honestly, I expected you hours ago.” Small sigh. “I thought I told you to never come back.” 

A sense of sadness brushes the edges of Michael’s skin. He chooses to ignore it in lieu of sparring with this fascinating man.

“Aw, Manes, I didn’t know you cared. Miss me, did ya?” No response. “I’ve never been good at following directions. Plus, you said to never come back to your apartment, and, technically, I'm not in your apartment.”

The sound of Alex’s snort-laugh, brings a full smile to Michael’s lips.

The bedside lamp switches on. 

Alex is leaned against the headboard, face absent of any obvious emotion, but his eyes sparkle, even in the low light. He’s wearing a tight t-shirt molded to his body, joggers and running shoes. His legs crossed at the ankles.

“You always sleep in your shoes, Manes?”

A barely perceptible micro-expression creases his brow and Michael is captivated. 

“It’s almost as if I expected you, huh? Weird.” The sarcasm dripping from Alex’s lips makes Michael want to kiss that smirk right off his face, kiss him hard enough and deep enough his control cracks and Alex Manes moans Michael’s name. 

_ Why fight it? _

“I did a little digging on you. You have a reputation at being the best at what you do. Accomplished. Impressive.”

A sense of pride fills Michael. “Glad you noticed.” He leans against the far wall, hoping he looks more casual than he feels. 

“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it on my computer screen.” Alex’s eyes seem to dance with amusement. “I mean with me, you appear unable to stay focused. Wonder why that is?” Alex’s tone suggests he knows exactly ‘_why that is_’. “Almost like you need a strong hand to keep you in line, to steer you.” The nonchalance of his words causes heat to unfurl in Michael’s chest. 

_ Christ almighty. _

Michael has an urge to go to his knees, to show Alex just how much he wants that. He doesn’t even bristle at Alex’s snarky comment regarding his shoddy skillset, since it seems more like flirting than an actual insult. Plus the man already said he was impressed. 

“Think you could handle me?” _ Fuck! _ He hadn’t meant for things to turn sexual so fast, but he’ll follow the other man’s lead. Actually, he's pretty sure he’d follow Alex anywhere. He’s already said as much, and, well, here he is. 

_ I never stood a chance. _

“You’ve no idea.” Alex’s tongue briefly sweeps out along his bottom lip and Michael has to use every ounce of self control he has to keep from lunging across the room to suck it into his own mouth. “Let’s move this to the kitchen. I want coffee.”

Michael nods and follows Alex out of the room, the lumbering beast chasing after the beguiling butterfly. He wonders if Alex is the devil or an angel, not that it seems to matter either way.

Manes appears to have no concerns about Michael being at his back. No sense of being vulnerable to a seasoned assassin. 

_ Huh. _

Michael sits at the small eat-in table as Alex preps the coffeemaker and grabs a couple of mugs. He throws on an old Air Force hoodie, much to Michael’s chagrin.

“So, are you here to find out what I know of Antarians or to complete your mission?” 

“I’m here because you led me here.”

Alex chuckles. “I see. Ever the smartass. I’ll get a straight answer from you, eventually.”

“Will you?” 

“Won’t I?” Eyebrow raised in pure confidence.

Michael smirks instead of answering. Alex clearly already knows the truth anyway.

~~~

Sipping his coffee in silence, Alex Manes looks completely unfazed to be sitting across from a man under contract to kill him. 

Michael feels like he’s being examined, analyzed, scrutinized. The way Alex looks at him feels exposing, like he couldn’t hide any part of himself, even if he tried. Michael is just as confused by his strange reactions to this man as ever, but he’s resigned to try and figure it out, for the moment. 

Alex Manes is dangerous, a known terrorist, and yet he’s allowed Michael to escape, more than once, and appears to be completely unafraid of him. The whole thing is very odd, but also intriguing. There’s so much at stake, this interaction is such a big risk, but Michael has a _ need _ to know what’s happening between them. 

Seeming to have come to a decision, Alex puts down his coffee cup and says, “Pass the sugar.” 

Michael doesn’t think twice about it, he slides the ceramic sugar bowl across the table, but Alex doesn’t put any in his coffee. 

The man somehow knocks over his mug, remnants of the dark liquid quickly spilling out. Without thinking, Michael grabs some napkins off the table to keep the coffee from falling onto Alex’s lap. Michael sops up the mess and asks if Alex would like some more, a quick shake of his head is all he gives. 

A moment later the same mug that tipped over somehow falls off the table. Michael instinctively catches it with his Tk and settles it back in front of Manes. 

Alex hasn’t moved from his spot, nor have his eyes left Michael’s face. Merely watching him. Assessing?

“So what is this? You can’t possibly be this clumsily.”

Alex exhales a slow sigh. “What do you know of consorts?”

_ Uh, weird question. _

“I mean, I know the term and definition. Not sure why that’s relevant.”

“Antarians have fated mates called Consorts.” A beat of silence. “I think you may be mine.” 

_ What.The.Fuck! _


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael Guerin just learned Alex Manes is half alien AND about Antarian Consorts!!! What will he do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Please be gentle, life has been happening in spades and I’ve been away from fandom for many months. *crosses fingers* Here goes nothin’. 
> 
> **There's some sort of problem with the fic/chapters updating properly. I can’t seem to fix it without altering the date. *palm to face, rolls eyes at self* Here's hoping those who look will be able to find it. 🍀**

_ OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD! _

Michael’s head is spinning, sweat seeping from his pores. He must’ve heard him wrong. Must be some kind of poison in the coffee that’s just now kicked in, hallucinations and all. 

Alex levels a direct stare at him, his demeanor calm and undeterred. The effect leaves Michael speechless. 

Warm brown eyes bore into him, strong jaw, confidence rolling off him in waves. It makes Michael feel seen, _ known_. Makes him want to give himself over even as his brain rails against his body’s reactions. His jumbled mind trying desperately to make sense of everything all at once. He’s usually very logical, a hardened mercenary, he’s not vulnerable to the whims of the heart! NO! _ Never! _ He would _ never _ let his guard down...but...but...this man...this man makes him feel…feel… 

Michael has followed wherever Alex has led him, his actions already speaking louder than words. 

_ Is it _ so _ crazy? _

Alex clears his throat, small smirk on his lips, and Michael feels his cock harden in his too tight jeans. 

“So, I take it this is news to you?”

Michael can only muster a half-hearted scoff. 

Mercifully, he explains, as Michael tries not to completely unravel. 

“Most of what I know is from remnants of old texts and classified documents, all of it scattered, in pieces, but from what I’ve gathered, those with Antatian blood have fated pairs that are a bit, shall we say, complicated.”

Michael has no words, he’s not sure he’s still blinking, but Alex continues.

“When a pair finds one another, there’s an inexplicable surge between them. A power orientation that seeks balance, as an unspoken set of rules sets in. There’s a call for one to guide and tend, met by the other’s subsequent urge to please and abide. One to dominate and care for, the other to submit and trust. Both roles share immense strength—maybe bolstered by the bond, that deep pull toward one another?—and are equally possessive and protective. It all seems very...intense.” 

The idea of power and control, destined to be someone’s other half speaks to Michael and arouses him on a primal level.

“I don’t know all the details, only that the dynamic is immediate, symbiotic, and undeniable.”

Michael can feel his body slowly calming as the tone and impact of Alex’s words wash over him. 

This unknown truth… This unexpected moment… This inevitable connection...

“I had an inkling when we met on the roof, during our first interaction, that there might be something more at play here.” Alex gesturing between them. “I pulled my punches and only sought to neutralize you, which is extremely unlike me. You appeared to do the same.”

Michael nods, agreeing with Alex’s assessment, though it’s all a revelation to him.

“And then, when I felt that breeze of telekinesis, I knew you could finish me off without a second thought, but you didn’t.” 

_ I couldn’t. _

"Same as at the apartment, and just now. No true commitment to cause harm."

Michael hopes he doesn’t look as shell-shocked as he feels. “S-so, it just _ happens_?” The question sounding croaked, a bit strained, even to his own ears. For a man who craves control, the lack of choice, lack of free will, is lessening the potentially sweet reward and dampening his desire.

“Well, yes and no. The draw and all the parts are there, but the bond won’t fully kick in, won’t grow, unless both individuals agree to it, and it only solidifies after a period of Courting.”

Voice horace, “C-courting?”, hope rushes back in. It's dizzying. 

Alex gives him a half grin, and immediately Michael’s system responds to the stimuli.

  
  


“Yeah, there’s a period of Courting where the Consorts work to earn the other’s trust and approval. Courting lasts fro a few days to a couple of weeks, a much shorter timeframe than it takes to build an actually lasting human relationship." Alex shakes his head a little, small crease between his brows. Michael is transfixed. "I haven’t quite figured that out, but it seems Fate just _ knows." _Small shrug. "They do this through deeds, tasks and spoils of war.” A glint in Alex’s eye? “I’m sure Consorts can get creative in showing off their strengths, proving their value and worthiness to bond.”

_ Oh shit! _

Indeed! Michael can think of a few things right off the bat…

_ Focus, Guerin! _

A quick cough—maybe to cover up a chuckle?—Alex’s demeanor returns to firm and steady. As quickly as the levity was there, it’s gone, and Michael immediately wants it back! Wants to figure out the maze of Alex’s mind, wants to get him to smile again, to make him chuckle. T-to please him? 

_ To please him. _

_ Oh! _

He doesn’t have time to dwell on this new thought, because Alex is explaining things and Michael _ really _needs to listen.

“Once it’s snapped into place though, the bond is unbreakable, permanent. I read a few documents that suggest one cannot—or will not, it’s unclear—live without the other. If separated the Consorts will seek their mates to no end, no self preservation present, they will risk their lives in a bid to find each other. If one dies, the other will follow shortly thereafter, sometimes by their own hand, sometimes by unknown causes. When the bond is severed by death, the other simply won’t survive.”

_ Whoa. _

All of this is sounding more and more terrifying than it did before. Completely overwhelming. Utterly illogical. Without question dangerous, but also… Astounding. Alluring._ Right? _

While Michael doesn’t know Alex Manes, not at all really, he believes him. Wholly. Fully. 

_ Right. _

Still baffled by his reactions, he at least has more information as to what may be happening to him. Michael feels somewhat less crazed, well, no, less erratic and concerned he’s having some sort of a psychological episode. All of his behaviors can be explained by this bond. Maybe? By Fate? He releases a deep breath.

_ Whoa! _

The man across from him is mesmerizing, from the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, to the infinitesimal changes in his expressions. Michael hasn’t figured anything out yet, but he’s fascinated. He’s not sure he could tear himself away from Alex, even if he tried...not that he seems to want to, anyway.

Voice stern, Alex continues, “Make no mistake, Guerin, I am not a man that takes this lightly. I live the life I do in order to protect others. I have never been interested in putting anyone at risk or in harm’s way. I choose to have few ties and don’t stay in one place too long. I can honestly say I never wanted any of this, and have never seen myself as someone who would make this sacrifice of himself, in this way, for anyone, _ ever_.”

Michael’s heart drops, his throat going dry, every part of him aching.

They look at one another in silence, for seconds, minutes...years? Michael’s concept of time is shot at this point, and he can’t say that he cares. His entire being is focused on Alex, his words, his reactions, his ability to destroy Michael in this single moment.

Alex licks his lips,“But I’m not necessarily displeased it’s happening either.”

Instantaneously a sense of ease trickles through him, and Michael releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. It’s not as if he fully understands the magnitude of Consorts, nor is he ready to sign his life over to a man he’s just met, but the hope of something more rises to the surface in a way he never expected. It’s as though his core self is calling to Alex and Alex is drawing him in. All of the contradictory responses making more sense now, the parts slotting into place(-ish).

Alex drags his top teeth over his bottom lip, ever so slowly, and Michael isn’t sure he won’t come in his pants. Michael can’t gain purchase with this man, can’t seem to get his feet under him. The back and forth of his mind and body, how easily and quickly he can sway under the power of Alex’s presence. It’s fucking freaking him out, to be perfectly honest.

“So I guess the real question is, will you kneel for me, Michael?” His tone definitive. 

Another hard shift of his system, as Michael takes in _ that look _ from Alex. The look that can so easily break him apart, piece by piece. His heart is thundering, his mind whirring, but his body warms. A deep rooted heat unfurls inside him, his instincts propelling him forward, while clamoring for him to submit. A contrary fit, but _ good _ and possibly _ right_.

Alex could have easily commanded him; Michael having no doubts he would have easily given himself over, but he’d asked._ “...the bond...won’t grow unless both individuals agree to it.” _Giving Michael the choice, though the outcome practically inevitable. 

The other man simply waits, patiently watching, as Michael struggles within. 

Risk everything for the chance at this? Gamble his life, maybe that of his siblings, on a concept that’s foreign, but speaks to his very soul? Could he be that reckless? That selfish? That needy...that lonely? To take a chance with his heart—something he’s never done before—for a man he barely knows, yet who feels inexplicably necessary for Michael’s survival? This decision...

_ Is he my...mine? _

Long moments pass, Alex’s gaze holding him, steadying him. With each breath he takes, Michael feels more and more resolute. 

There is _ only _ one answer. 

“Yes.” The word is whispered, though confident and true.   
  


He sees Alex’s pupils dilate, watches his cheeks tinge a slight pink, and hears a sharp intake of breathe. Otherwise, his face is impassive. Alex’s control is breathtaking to witness and Michael is gladly at his mercy.   
  


_To please him. _

Michael moves to kneel on the tiled floor of the kitchen, no pretense of putting up a fight. 

Whatever they are or aren’t, whatever they will be or they won’t be, _ this _ moment _ is _ happening.

“Not here.” Alex’s statement is clipped, as he reaches for Michael’s hand, leading him to the bedroom. This is the first time Alex has touched him while not in combat or trying to restrain him. The calloused hand is sure as it glides across his skin, fingers wrapping tightly around Michael’s wrist. The feeling is electric, palpable, as the energy flows between them. He wants to beg Alex to take him right there, wants to taste that salty flesh on his tongue, wants to feel the weight of this man as he fucks them both into oblivion. Slight tremors of anticipation pulse through him, as if their desire is shared. Michael is sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that if he waits, if he allows Alex to guide them, the rewards will be sweet and plentiful. 

Once there, Alex releases him and sits atop of the bed. He places Michael just so—right where he wants him—their eyes locking together, before he speaks again. 

“Kneel.” No more asking. 

Michael obeys.

There is no war inside him now, only the blanket of submission and an unnerving sense of safety and rightness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. 😊


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael Guerin and Alex Manes...
> 
> Consorts...submission...and what happens next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! 💗
> 
> **In line with the ‘new normal‘, for me anyway, there seems to be some sort of problem with the fic/chapters updating correctly. No clue how to fix it without altering the date. Smh. Here's hoping those who look will be able to find it. 🍀**

Michael is on his knees, hands resting on his thighs, as he waits. Alex’s caramel eyes watching him, eating him up. 

_ Need him. _

The astounding man in front of him brushes his thumb across Michael’s parted lips. “You’re perfect.” The reverent tone causes tremors, his body vibrating from the impact of Alex’spraise. 

Never has Michael felt more aroused, more scared, and more in his place than he does at this moment. It’s intense, almost all consuming, but in a good way. He’s in too deep, finding he’s already, somehow, surrendered to this man. It’s terrifying, the totality of everything that’s happening and Michael’s absolute commitment to seeing this through to the end. 

Either he will survive, and experience the greatest pleasure and connection he’s ever known, or he will perish, a ruin of a man. There will be no in-between, and it’s a no brainer for him, Michael will gladly give himself over for the chance at happiness...to be made whole. 

Strong fingers slowly card into Michael’s curls, before tightening into a fist, pulling. There’s no resist to the touch, obediently allowing his head to be tilted back, holding Alex’s gaze. Manes is in control, fierce, and all Guerin wants to do is melt for him. Alex leans in, barely brushing those luscious lips against his.

Michael attempts to lean forward, to bring their mouths together, but Alex tightens his grip, letting loose a low growl. “Do not move unless I tell you too.” 

Throat going dry he tries to swallow, and groans, “A-and if don’t?” Alex’s face shutters with even more dominance, staring into Michael’s eyes, maybe into his soul, and merely blinks. 

He can’t help the whispered, “Yes,” that leaves his lips. 

Alex doesn’t move and Michael is afraid he's fucked it all up. He’s desperate to do something, say something—maybe apologize...there’s a first time for everything—because he wants _ this _ more than makes any real sense. 

Finally, Alex brings their mouths together in a searing kiss. He’s dizzy from the first touch of their lips, already a goner, for the decadent taste. Their tongues tangle and breaths mingle, an electricity crackling between them. It’s delicious and exquisite. Their teeth click together with ferocity, biting at one another’s lips. Michael’s panting, skin burning with desire. He reflexively clenches his fists to keep from touching or grabbing Alex’s face.

An instinct deep inside Michael rises to the forefront, roaring in his ears. 

_ Submit! _

Heaving, fighting for breath, he lets go of all control and falls fully into Alex’s power. 

Lusty words against his kiss-bitten lips, “You please me to no end.” A sultry laugh. “Oh the fun we’re gonna have.”

_ Yes. _

That’s the last coherent thought Michael has, as he moans, and gives Alex Manes everything.  
  


> _ ...Alex commanding him to touch himself but not to come...strained sounds falling from his lips…brought to the edge again and again...hot mouths...wet tongues laving...lurid, wanton... _
> 
> _  
...Michael’s eyes leaking tears as he swallows Alex’s cock down, down deep into his throat, nearly gagging...eager to obey, to please...fists clenched in his hair...strong hips thrusting toward his mouth...hearing the growl of pleasure as he drinks down each and every last drop…_
> 
> _  
...Alex opening him up...slick sliding...pushing, one finger becoming two, pressure building, steering him past the initial burn...readying him...it’s good, so good...feeling like a whimpering mess as Alex touches that bundle of nerves over and over…nearly sobbing for more...”Either stop begging me, Guerin or I’m going to put a gag in that pretty mouth of yours”...shivering at the statement, Michael bites his lip so hard he tastes copper, watching Alex watch him…seeing the other man’s skin sheened in sweat, face set with purpose…Alex surging forward, crushing their lips together, sweeping that sinful tongue into Michael’s mouth, both of them sharing spit and blood...filthy...fantasy come to life…”So fucking good for me. Shall I let you come now?”...helpless sounds...knowing Alex will do as he pleases…_ _  
_
> 
> _ ...The heady sensation of Alex’s cock sliding into him the first time...the stretch, the fullness, the bone deep connection…the drag of skin against skin, nerve endings raw with need...steady pace that becomes pounding fervor...feeling frantic, as frenetic energy pulses through him…clutching Alex’s strong back (only after being given permission to touch)...nails digging into flesh, knowing bruises will be left behind...”Come for me! Come hard, Consort!”...Michael’s vision blurring as he experiences the most powerful orgasm he’s ever known...skin blazing, pinpricks of pleasure and pain coursing through him...exstasy...the bite of Alex’s teeth sinking into the skin of his shoulder, marking him...indescribable...his Consort rising up on spread knees, clutching possseeively onto thighs splayed wide...Alex fucking harder, animalistic, seeking his own release...hot cum splashing deep inside Michael’s welcoming body...both heaving, breaths labored...sticky, pressed together when that strong body collapses on top of him...Michael knowing to his core—as they hold one another tight, shivering through the all the aftershocks—that there’s no going back...he belongs to Alex Manes... _

  
~~~

  
They’ve been wrapped up in one another for the last 72 hours. Michael turning off all of his comms and nearly severing his telepathic connection to his siblings. Not enough for them to worry if he’s alive, but enough so they can’t find him in the arms of the enemy. 

What’s happening between him and Alex is fragile, tentative, and he feels fiercely protective of their new coupling. Not wanting any intruders, not wanting to hear anyone else’s opinions, focused only on figuring out the nuances of this extraordinary dynamic. 

Outside of their intense scenes, the current of energy between them seems to crest back and forth, ebbing and flowing. Alex admits he has no clue why or how, but agrees with Michael, that “it’s pretty fucking cool”. Dominance and submission...collaboration and cooperation…being able to share the burdens and the heavy lifting...counterbalancing...like a surfer riding a wave.

They touch one another in wonder and exploration, both new to this journey. Discovering and learning the other, they are curious and clever, minds matching wits. They laugh and play, complete with surprise kisses and nips, fingers intentionally squeezing and hands holding. Looking and seeing—being _ seen _—trusting and hoping. 

It’s madness, how quickly things are moving, but clearly Fate knows what she’s doing. And Michael is grateful for her skill set. 

They talk, _ really talk_, and it feels natural. Crazy. Michael’s never shared his truths (or secrets) with anyone, but is able to take the chance, feeling brave, because Alex is right there along with him, the two of them in this together. 

At some point they will face reality, the specifics of their jobs and lives blending into one. They both somehow believe that it’s doable, necessary, when they’ve only just met a week ago. 

Simply put, they’re destined, written in the stars, and everything else can wait. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This may be the last chapter, as this fic keeps getting bigger and bigger, and I’m not sure how much more I have I left. I hope that this is a satisfying-ish ending (if there’s no more inspiration). 🥰
> 
> ⭐️**Edit:** There IS a smidge more coming. Hang tight and thank you for the encouragement! 😘


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael Guerin and Alex Manes...
> 
> There’s a threat...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed.
> 
> Please let me know if this fic updates all goofy, I’ll try to fix it-ish 😊

Their time together has been a dream. Both of them strutting and preening for the other. 

Michael is ever mesmerized by Alex’s fingers as he deftly strums his guitar or even when he clicks away on his laptop. And, _ oh,_ what those fingers do to him in other ways…

The domineering manner in which Alex commands him, commands his body, using a multitude of languages (in which he is fluent), never fails to make goosebumps rise all over Michael’s skin. Who knew the Russian word for ‘quiet’ or the Isralie word for ‘come’ could be so sexy?

Then there’s Alex’s pure strength. Irresistible. The fact that he seemingly tolerates Michael’s unending desire to touch and play is nothing short of a miracle. He suspects Alex might actually enjoy their silliness, since he _ always _ wins when they play-wrestle, pinning Michael until he relents. Not that Michael has anything to complain about. Their dynamic is sefused with laughter, and often arousal. On the rare occasion Michael manages to get the upper hand, they both sort of chuckle, because the ‘hardened alien mercenary’ has to resort to using his Telekinesis to get the win. Michael definitely does _ not _ think it constitutes ‘cheating’, per his consort’s accusation. Pish. 

For his part, Michael keeps his man well fed, showing off his culinary knowhow and exceptional knife skills. He comes through with that fruit salad he’d joked about back at Alex’s apartment, as well as some fancy shmancy techniques he picked up when on assignment for six months in Paris.

Flaunting his engineering nature, Michael gets creative when fixing small things around the cabin, making improvements to various items and appliances. Effortlessly using his telekinesis, but only when _absolutely _needed—no other reason!—obviously, of course. The near constant half-grin Alex sports at the sight of Michael using his _ gift _is a treasure to behold, in and of itself. 

Feeling puffed up and prideful, Michael can’t help thinking, “I did that...I made him smile...I always want to see that face crinkled with joy...” 

~~~

Currently, they’re snuggled in the bed, face to face, Alex on top of Michael. Softly caressing one another, murmuring words of wonder when Michael looks up just before a bullet whips through the window. Instinctively, he clutches Alex to him, trying to roll him out of danger, but he hears the telltale hiss of hot metal as it makes contact with flesh. Michael looks up to see a line of blood on Alex’s arm, and immediately tries to tend to the injury. 

“Go, Guerin! Go, I’m fine!” Alex’s tone is that of a seasoned warrior. 

He’s torn. The idea of leaving Alex’s side nearly guts him, but the overwhelming need to find and obliterate the threat to _ them _ is all-consuming. With a quick kiss and a grunt, Michael grabs a pair of sweat shorts and storms from the cabin, nearly ripping the door off its hinges. Shirtless and barefoot, barely noticing the twigs and rocks digging into his feet, he charges forward. 

With each step he takes, each second that passes Michael becomes more and more enraged. Seething, blood roaring in his ears, his heart is hammering. The adrenaline coursing through his body is feral, making him feel nearly crazed. Teeth clenched, he haphazardly sends waves of TK in the general direction from where the bullet was likely fired. A haze of red, bloodlust, hones his sight. He gives no consideration to any casualties that may get caught in the crosshairs, everything else is irrelevant. Tearing through the brush and low hanging branches, he has only one thought. 

_ Kill_.

Singularly focused, Michael stalks his prey.

By the third blast of energy, he finds a man covered in tactical gear pinned to a tree (nearly a foot off the ground) and gasping for air as Michael tightens his invisible hold on the other man’s throat. 

Michael snarls. “Who the fuck are you?” Releasing his grip only enough for the other man to cough and wheeze.

“Guerin? Guerin! Guerin...it’s me Hank.” The man sputters, “Manes...has an open contract out on him...bounty on his head.”

The pure rath Michael feels is like nothing else he’s ever experienced, dropping the man to the ground, he roars, “_He’s mine!_” 

Turning to walk away, Hank yells after him, “I didn’t know man.” Choked cough. “I didn’t know he was your mark. I’ll spread the word you’ve disposed of the target.” 

At those words, Michael flicks his wrist over his shoulder, hearing the finality of bones snapping. Knowing he’s easily, and without remorse, broken the other man’s neck. He is fortified in his purpose. Disposing of the imminent threat to Alex is only thing that matters. There’s no second guessing, no other reasonable choice, only an animalistic need to protect. 

_ No one touches Alex Manes, no one! _

Rushing into the cabin, he finds Alex crouched by the side of the bed, that familiar .50 Desert Eagle aimed at him as he crosses the threshold. 

“It’s just me.” Hands up in an ‘it’s okay’ kind of way. Alex lowers the weapon. 

The immediate and powerful relief flooding Michael’s system is nearly crippling. He can honestly say he’s never been so scared for someone else’s life, so worried about another person’s survival. In the past, he’s always trusted his siblings to handle themselves, doubt never crossing his mind. But this is different. While he _knows_—without a shadow of a doubt—that Alex Manes is fully capable of handling himself (in any and all situations), Michael can’t help the depth of terror he’s experienced.

The pure panic of considering, ”What if?“, and the unwavering afterthought of, “I won’t survive without him.” 

It’s staggering, the significance of his reaction. 

Not wanting another moment apart, Michael reaches for his man. Acutely assessing the wound on Alex’s left bicep, even as Alex insists, “I’m fine, Guerin. Just a graze. I’m okay. I promise.” The words are delivered with zero heat or command, more like the gentleness of allowing one’s partner to appease the need to caregive and lessen their worry. 

Smoothing his hands all over Alex's upper body, he makes sure that his gorgeous golden skin is unmarred, the action creating a sense of calm, of ease. Each brush of his fingers over strong muscles, and long ago healed scars, is soothing. Alex silently (and patiently?) waits until Michael is satisfied.

  
Finally, bringing his gaze back to those warm brown eyes, seeing Alex softly staring back at him, causes Michael’s own eyes to well in response. The relief of knowing Alex is safe (at least for the moment), assuages the chaos rioting inside.

In this moment, Michael realizes the thrumming under his skin is a clear sign that he’s completely open to Alex Manes, fully receptive to their bond, even though he doesn’t yet feel the same in return.

A couple of slow sighs, as he watches the man in front of him. Michael would’ve assumed any incongruence, lack of reciprocity, would create emotions of hurt or even anger, but the acknowledgement of _this_ truth only redoubles his resolve. He is absolute in his determination.

Crushing their bodies close, stemming tears stinging behind his eyes, Michael holds tightly onto the man that holds his heart. 

_ I’ll spend a lifetime winning his heart, to earn the right to be Alex Manes’s mate. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 😊


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael Guerin tells the team... Alex Manes tells his story, figures out who the client is, and has a plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it 😊
> 
> **Sigh. It’s been brought to my attention that once again the updates aren’t updating. So sorry folks. At least there’s only one more chapter left so this wonkiness won’t go on forever.

“Where the fuck are you?!” He winces, as Max bellows through the phone. Alex smirking, not bothering to look up from his computer, clearly hearing his brother’s ire.

“Glad to know you’re alive, Michael. Geez, we were so worried, Michael. Please know how much we missed you, Michael.” He can practically hear Max turning 16 shades of red at the sardonic response. 

There’s a grappling sound, then Isobel’s voice, “Cut the shit, dumbass! Obviously, we know you’re alive since your link to us is only dulled, not gone. Now tell me where you are and what hell is going on!”

“Nice to hear your voice too, Iz, “ Chuckling to himself, she snorts with irritation.

With a deep breath, Michael asks to be put on speakerphone, hoping he’ll only have to tell this story once to the entire team. Listening to members of Arete gather, he glances over at Alex, who returns a look of support. Eyes twinkling, he mouths, “good luck,” blowing him a quick kiss, before diving back into his computer. 

_I’m gonna need it. Here goes nothing._

~~~

To say things hadn’t gone well would be an understatement. There was quite a bit of yelling. 

Liz insisting on bloodwork to prove Michael wasn’t being drugged or under the influence of some reality-altering substances. Also, (involuntarily) volunteering Max to ’zap Alex Manes to kingdom come’. 

Isobel’s threats concluded with a promise to ‘melt Manes’ brain’ the second she sees him or, kindly offering, to cut the man to bloody ribbons using her favorite tactical blade. Victim’s choice, of course. 

Cam asking sweetly, too sweetly, for their location so she can come ‘talk’ to the pair face-to-face. More likely planning to come in, guns blazing, to kidnap Michael and finish off Alex. 

The laughter from Valenti in the background only serving to make his hackles rise. _Prick_. 

Max, the only seemingly level headed one, simply saying, “Give us time to talk. Call us back in a few hours. That’s a lot to think about.” 

Exhausted from the endless attempts to convince them he wasn’t in any sort of danger from Manes—at least not physically, his heart was a different story, the man having hold of his most vulnerable parts, and Michael simply hoping for the best—he finally hangs up the phone. 

Leaning back on the couch, into Alex’s open arms, he releases a heavy breath. “Well, that was pleasant.” The responding chuckle immediately perks up his mood. 

“What did you expect? It’s pretty fucking out there, even for us, and we’re the ones going through it!” With a nod Michael settles into the strong arms banded around him, breathing in the scent of sunshine and wind, the addictive smell that is uniquely Alex. The fragrance makes his heart clench and his body feel safe. 

_Home._

~~~

After a few more heated phone calls with his siblings and colleagues, and several creative threats, Michael simply states, “Look, either you all decide to trust me on this one, or I’ll leave for good. I’m not fucking around here. Where he goes I go. End of story.” 

  
Eventually, grumpily, they relent, proffering up two more days for Michael and Alex to figure out a plan. Arete promising to stall the client as long as possible; the team confirming they’re dedicated and on board, despite expressly communicating their concerns. 

In the time it has taken Michael to convince the overly protective lunatics that he doesn’t have Stockholm Syndrome, Alex has been furiously hacking darkweb sites and removing declarations of ‘open season’ on his life.

Begrudgingly, Iz and Max provide their login information; hoping Arete’s databases will help Alex find leads about the mysterious client that originally hired them. 

All the while, Michael reminds Alex to take breaks, eat, and stretch out. Massaging tight muscles and dropping soft kisses to his hair or the side of his mouth. Small assurances to let Alex know he’s not alone in any of this. Manes works like a machine, hella fast, tunnel vision allowing him to efficiently find what he seeks. Michael is in awe of what Alex has uncovered and how quickly he’s filled in the gaps from the redacted information.

Sitting across the kitchen table, meal finished, Michael waits. Giving Alex time and space to share what he’s found. 

A sigh, face inscrutable, Alex admits, “The ‘client’ is my brother, Clint, and my father, Jesse Manes.” His statement is matter-of-fact, but a slight tightening in his jaw reveals underlying emotion. 

Michael’s heart aches for Alex, and the stark realization that his own family set a bounty on his head. Previously, Alex had believed his entire family was killed over the years (whether in combat or through various ‘accidents’). He admits he was never able to find definitive proof of life (or death) for either of the two men.

“Fucking figures. The installations I’ve been trying to destroy over the years are spearheaded by my father and Clint, his willing errand boy through and through. The disgusting mission is called Project Shepard. It’s purpose is to study Antarians like lab rats, try to extract their gifts/powers and discard of the individuals once the government has attained what they want.”

An unfamiliar expression crosses his face. 

“Alex...I’m so sorry.” Not knowing the right words to offer. 

Shrug. “Thanks. I’m actually not terribly surprised. They always hated me, hated what I am.”  
  


Michael remains silent, intent on giving Alex a safe space to share whatever he needs to say.

“My mother was an Antarian prisoner. To hear my father tell it, she used her alien powers to seduce him, though I have my doubts about that.” Heavy sigh. “Regardless, once I was born he had her sent to the gas chambers and tried to raise me like all the other ‘Manes men’.” A humorless chuckle. “It didn’t take. I was never like any of them, and he was hell bent on beating all the differenness out of me.”

Reaching his hand across the table, waiting, Alex eventually responds in kind. Michael firmly holds that calloused hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth. Silently pleading for the other man to know he’s not alone, that there’s nothing wrong with him, and that Michael will gladly tear out the throats of the evil pair if it will bring Alex an ounce of relief. 

Alex blinks, holding Michael’s gaze, “I think I have a plan. I need to work a bit more to double check my assumptions. As soon as I’m done I’ll have a list of things we’ll need. I’ll give it to you while I try to sleep. That okay with you?”

“Of course, Alex. Anything you need. I trust you.”

“Michael,” a deep breath, “you know you don’t owe me anything. You can walk away at any time. I wouldn’t blame you. It’s a lot.” A quick glance away. Insecurity? “If my idea fails my father and brother will hunt me to the ends of the earth, and kill anyone who gets in their way.” 

_Oh Alex_. 

Michael’s heart is pounding, but he purposely keeps his breaths even, waiting for Alex to lock eyes with him again. “I’m not going anywhere. Like I said, it’s a done deal. Whenever you go I go. I won’t be moved from this.”

Silence, the two blinking at one another, the truth hanging heavily in the air between them.

Finally, giving a curt nod and a tiny, half-smile, Alex says, “You’ve been warned, Guerin.” Michael is pretty sure he hears an infinitesimal sound of joy slip from the other man’s voice. 

Slow, cowboy-esque smile spreads across Michael’s lips, “Let’s give ‘em hell, Manes.” 


	9. I don't wanna go down any other road now...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael Guerin and Alex Manes are on a mission...but things go awry! Duh, duh, duuuunnnn!
> 
> Also, a little insight from Alex’s POV! 😉

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed. 
> 
> This is the last one! Thank you so much for hanging in there with me! Whew. 
> 
> It’s been one hell of a ride!!! This song [Nobody but you](https://youtu.be/4h9o0Gujuoc) got caught on a loop in my brain and dragged me over the line. Also, it’s the reason for the random chapter title. Lol. :)
> 
> **Per the usual, the way this fic is updating is still effed up. *throws hands up in defeat*
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! 😊

**Michael**

He and Alex are en route to meet up with Arete. They plan to set a trap for Jesse and Clint, choosing to imprison the men rather than eradicate them. Alex stressing the importance of the information they have, the key to rescuing other Antarians. 

Cruising along in Alex’s truck a dark colored SUV speeds up behind them, just as Michael pushes the gas all their tires blow out as they hit a row of spikes (clearly this situation was intentional). He swerves off the road and the truck slams into a tree. 

Michael reaches over to ensure Alex is okay when bullets begin to fly. 

A look of pure determination crosses Alex’s face. “Go!”

They both roll out of the vehicle, respective guns in hand. This isn’t what they planned, but they’ll make the best with what they’ve got. 

Michael sees Clint and immediately flings TK at him, the man’s body flying through the air, landing with a hard thud. 

Bullets seem to be coming at him from a different direction, Michael throws another wave of TK toward Jesse Manes, hopefully disarming him. 

He hears more rounds of shooting, as he runs headlong toward Clint’s body. Approaching the man, every intention of incapacitating him, Clint throws what appears to be a flash bomb that bursts open with a loud pop and releases a yellow powder. The yellow dust burns his eyes, causing him to cough and stumble. Michael reaches for his TK, nearly blind from the bomb blast, and finds his power is completely ineffective for the first time in his life. _ Shit! _He can only hope and trust his decades worth of training will get him through this alive. With only his instinct, and pure force of will, Michael heads into battle. 

The two of them go at one another in hand-to-hand combat. Clint is well trained, but Michael is fighting for his life, and for the life of his consort. He hears a bullet whiz past his head, likely Jesse, but he doesn’t have time to look before he’s knocked to the ground. Clint has a rock in hand, about to bash Michael’s face in when he hears the older man shout, “Clint! Halt!” Not unlike the command one would give a dog—nice father figure—but the man on top of him stops immediately. 

Michael takes the advantage, his eyes still stinging, he flips their position. Pressing Clint’s face into the asphalt, pinning his hands behind him, as the full weight of Michael’s muscled body holds him in place. 

Peering up through watery eyes, Michael sees Alex Manes looking like a god of war. Blood dripping from his hair line, clear bullet wound through his shoulder, one hand clenched in his father’s hair, the other holding a 6 inch hunting knife to his father’s throat (small line of blood trickling down the older man’s neck).

Michael is awed. 

Quickly, he secures Clint’s wrists and feet with zip ties, then punches him in the face—knocking him unconscious—just for good measure. 

As he walks toward Alex, he feels tension and power rolling off the other man in waves, almost like lightning prickling his skin. Michael realizes Alex is in some sort of an altered state, the other man can’t seem to see or hear him. His eyes almost glazed, his only reaction is to that of the pleas of his father and his pitiful attempts to get away. 

All of a sudden Michael feels scared, really scared, for Alex. It’s almost like he’s entranced by this bond between them, the need to protect one's consort overriding everything else. The fact that Alex might actually kill his father (when he was vehemently clear that both Jesse and Clint stay alive in order to extract valuable information out of them. That it was more important to find and save those who have been captured than to seek revenge against the family that set out to kill him) is worrisome. 

_ Think fast Guerin! _

Hands up, he speaks clearly and loudly, “Manes. Manes! It’s me, Guerin.” No reaction. “I need you to listen to me. I’m okay. I’m safe.” 

A snarl, gritted words, guttural, “Tried to hurt you...take you from me!” Knife pressing into flesh, the elder Manes whimpering. 

“No! No. I’m okay. Alex I’m here. I’m here.” He slowly approaches, hands in a non-threatening position. Alex’s body appears to be vibrating, muscles tense, breath rapid. “Look at me, Alex. _ Please_.” Michael trying to pour all his emotions into the words, making sure his side of the bond is wide open, easy for Alex to find. 

A few moments of Alex growling, eyes eventually looking into Michael’s. “I’m safe, Alex. You protected me. So strong. My Consort.”

Alex’s breath seems to slow, eyes softening, voice still sounding gravely, but more familiar, “Protected you. Consort.”

“Yes, baby. Yes. You did great. Let me help you secure him.” 

Alex gives a slight nod. Not wanting to waste a second, Michael quickly zip ties Jesse's hands and feet, slapping some duck tape over his mouth too. 

Alex drops the man he was holding and surges toward Michael. Mouths crushed together undeterred by dust and blood. Tongues licking, slip sliding, dualing, frantic. Michael moaning, as he relents. Fingers digging into his curls, letting Alex move him right where he belongs. Alex dominating, savagely biting Michael’s lower lip before devouring his mouth over and over again. 

They slowly pull apart, only to rest their foreheads together. Eyes closed, both panting. Michael’s shaking hands smoothing down Alex’s back, trying to ease him. Alex’s trembling hands on Michael’s face, tracing the lines and edges. 

Leaning back, only enough to hold one another’s gaze, Michael sees _ his _ Alex. 

A sigh of relief as his hearts swells. 

~~~

**Alex**

He sees his consort. Safe, beautiful, perfect. 

_Mine. _

Alex was so scared, never knowing fear like that before. When he saw the yellow dust bomb go off, knowing it was one of the dirty tricks his brother and father used to disarm Antarians, his brain went into overdrive. He should have remembered, should have been more careful! Michael being in danger brought forth a rage within him he didn’t know existed. He fired the warning shot at his father to distract him, barely feeling it when the man fired the bullet that went right through his shoulder. Only one thought crossed his mind. _ Kill! _Kill the threat to his consort. No other reason or purpose to exist, only to keep Michael safe. 

Coming out of that blood fueled state was a bit of a haze. Slowly hearing Michael’s voice, not initially trusting his own ears, afraid it was somehow a trick by his father and brother. _ Finally _ hearing the melodic and sleepy drawl that had become so familiar, so comforting to him. His eyes clearing, eventually seeing that his consort was okay, Alex was flooded with a deep sense of relief. His system was overloaded the moment their lips touched, confirming Michael was indeed in front of him, and it ignited a heat under his skin like molten lava. 

_ Mine! _

Standing there, looking at one another, Alex drops the lingering reserves of his self preservation, his fear. He fully opens up his side of the bond, having felt Michael’s side nudging up against him for a couple of days now.

He lets the man in. 

Wholly. Fully. Completely. 

Complete. 

The power that pulses through them is staggering, it’s like being torn apart and being knit back together, in the most exquisite ways. All parts and pieces finally in their rightful place, a connection that causes both of their right hands to glow, marking the skin beneath. Alex’s hand on Michael’s upper shoulder, Michael’s hand on Alex’s lower back. The heat, the zing, the experience of feeling the other’s emotions.

The sensations and remnants of thoughts... “_...finally...his...worthy to be his mate…” _

Alex’s eyes sting with the knowledge of Michael’s care for him, his devotion, his commitment. _ “...love this man…” _ His breath catches. Alex never actually believed he could feel true love, nevertheless be worthy of receiving it. Love. That word so foreign, but so right. 

_ I love him. _

Alex sees Michael’s eyes widen, sparkle a little, as though he’s heard the thought, loud and clear.   
  


A slow smile crossing his lips. _ ”...I love you too, Alex…” _

Both of them chuckling, somehow nervous but sure. Secure in their bond, their hearts beating as one. Connected, together. Made whole because they chose one another, complimenting and balancing the other’s strengths and weaknesses. 

~~~

Eventually they call in Arete, updating them on the situation, and trying to head back to the cabin to clean up (though not before Max does his healing mojo). Alex has to admit, this alien thing is pretty amazing. He’s surprised Michael was able to get him out of there before Iz or Cam had time to commit any acts of violence. Surprisingly, Valenti, Max, Michael, and Liz all decree Alex a confirmed member of the Arete family, igniting a litany of protests from the other two holdouts. Alex suspects Liz’s acquiescence is more about her scientific brain churning with the knowledge of the yellow neutralizing powder, and how to use the weapon to their own advantage, rather than considering Alex as an asset to the team. He’ll take what he can get. 

Alex tries to cover a chuckle with a cough when Michael shrugs, grabs his hand, and pulls him away from the others while hollering over his shoulder, “Majority rules!” to Iz and Cam (both sputtering and being physically held back by the rest of Arete). It’s actually heart warming to know Michael is so cared for, and that Alex gets to be a part of that special group of people. 

Once cleaned up, Alex spends the night fucking Michael with all the passion and love in his heart. Praising his mate’s strength, beauty, and gorgeous body. Noting his wickedly talented mind and lavishing him with kisses, while remarking on his breathtaking bravery. Alex licks and bites, squeezes and holds. Marking his mate with teeth and finger-tipped bruises. 

Both of them figuring out how to leave glittery rainbow handprints all over the other’s body. A mutual claiming. 

He’s happy and sated, the warm (and worn out) body of his mate resting in his arms. 

Alex Manes scoured the earth to save others like himself, but in the end Michael Guerin saved him instead.

_ Thank fuck!  
_

_Thank Fate!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. 😊
> 
> Here’s the last of this verse and my final go at fanfiction. And, because I like closure, there are a few things that are important for me to say:
> 
> Shoutout to the folks I've met via fandom and thank you, sincerely, to those who believed in me along the way. I’ve written more than I ever thought I could, and have been more daring and creative than I ever knew I could be! I’ve been lucky enough to collab/brainstorm/chat with and be inspired by some of the most incredibly talented writers out there. Thank you to everyone and countless others for their generosity, kindness and kudos/notes/likes/feedback. 
> 
> ~allthehearteyes😍/wholehearted💗

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. 😊


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